


So Cold (that your stare's 'bout to kill me)

by Theoroark



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/F, Fade to Black, Fae & Fairies, Rime Sombra & Biathlon Widow, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 19:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theoroark/pseuds/Theoroark
Summary: The attendant at the lodge warns Amélie as she’s on her way out. A little hesitantly, she notes. She sees the curled lips and rolled eyes locals throw the skiers who descend on their town every holiday season. But the attendant is a good man, and so he stops her as she’s about to leave and tells her, “There’s a storm coming on, over the mountains. You don’t want to be out there then. People who get lost in those storms don’t come back.”





	So Cold (that your stare's 'bout to kill me)

The attendant at the lodge warns Amélie as she’s on her way out. A little hesitantly, she notes. She sees the curled lips and rolled eyes locals throw the skiers who descend on their town every holiday season. And in her designer snowsuit, carefully applied makeup, and coiffed hair, she imagines she is far too ostentatious a tourist for them to even try to like. But the attendant is a good man, and so he stops her as she’s about to leave and tells her, “There’s a storm coming on, over the mountains. You don’t want to be out there then. People who get lost in those storms don’t come back.”

 

But Amélie did not go out to the wilderness to feel safe. And so she gave the man a patronizing smile, told him that she would be fine, and left. Her pride means that she doesn’t regret that decision, even when the snow is whipping around her so fiercely that all she can see is white, even when the world is going dark as the sun goes down and the temperature drops with it. 

 

She’s been circling aimlessly for maybe an hour when suddenly, her skis stutter and slip. She quickly rights herself and looks down. The snow before her is crystallizing into ice, in a straight line. She follows it with her gaze and ends up staring at the storm, and the faint shadow within it. She can barely make it out, but she swears it’s glowing blue. She swears it’s smiling, too.

 

“You look lost,” the shadow says. Her voice is teasing and musical. “You poor thing. If you follow me, I can give you shelter for the night.”

 

Amélie skiis towards her and the shadow quickly moves back, the ice path skating behind her. But before she slips completely back into the storm, Amélie catches a glimpse of the shadow. She isn’t wearing snow gear, or even a coat. She’s wearing what seems to be a tunic and leggings. Her hair is uncovered and short and white. Her skin is cyan.

 

Amélie isn’t a child, and so she can’t say she’s an expert on fairies. But she remembers some things from stories and myths. She knows they’re tricksters, that you’re not supposed to enter into any kind of deal with them, because they’ll only lead you to ruin. She knows they’re not the kind of creatures that help out of the pureness of their heart.

 

The wind is whipping and she’s utterly lost. Whatever the fairy has to offer is bound to be more interesting than dying of exposure. So Amélie follows the icy path and the glowing shadow, until they arrive at a clearing and suddenly, the storm dies. In front of her stands the fairy, blue skin and all, and a little log cabin, smoke puffing up from the chimney.

 

“You came,” the fairy says. She sticks out a hand and smiles, and Amélie can see her canines when she does. They’re far too sharp. “I’m Sombra.”

 

Amélie remembers you’re not supposed to tell a fairy your name. She shakes Sombra’s hand wordlessly. If this bothers Sombra, she doesn’t show it. She just smiles, and waves Amélie into the cabin. The second Sombra crosses the threshold, the storm picks up again behind her. Amélie hurries to follow her, and Sombra shuts the door behind her. 

 

Amélie looks around. The inside of the cabin is warm and neat, to the fairy’s credit. Everything is put in… some kind of order. But it’s abundantly clear this is a house constructed by someone who has never been in a house before. There’s a makeup vanity in what should have been the living room, with stuffed animals on its surface. A beanbag chair is on the sofa. Two coffee tables are stacked on top of each other, and none of the chairs around the composite megatable are the same kind.

 

“Well then, pretty girl,” Sombra says. She trots over to the sofa and sits down. A fire springs up before her in the hearth. “I meant what I said. You’re welcome to stay the night.”

 

Amélie walks over and sits down next to her, a respectable foot away. “This is quite a collection,” she says, gesturing around the cabin. Sombra laughs, and it sounds like wind chimes.

 

“I run into quite a few people like you, stranded and lost in storms,” she says. “And you know, I’m a generous soul, but I do need to get paid for my services. And so I ask people to name their price, before I take them away.”

 

“Take them away,” Amélie repeats. “I notice you don’t specify you’re taking them to safety.” 

 

“I keep my word,” she says. Then she laughs again. She’s watching her as she does, though, Amélie notices. Maybe she thinks she’ll shock Amélie with this admission, or scare her.

 

But that’s just more proof Sombra didn’t think this through. “We didn’t make that deal,” Amélie points out, her voice even. “I didn’t agree to pay you anything.”

 

Sombra’s eyes glint, and something in her expression changes. “We’ll figure something out,” she says. Then she slides a hand over the table in front of them, and two goblets sprout from its surface. From their dark contents and the heady scent of spices, Amélie guesses it’s mulled wine. Sombra picks one up and raises it. “A toast,” she says.

 

Amélie stares at her blandly because she may not know much about fairies, but even she knows not to eat or drink their offerings. Sombra’s mouth quirks up and she takes a sip. “Well,” she says. “It’s there if you want it. Now.” She snaps her fingers and Amélie jolts as music fills the cabin, some cheesy, poppy, disco beat. Sombra holds out a hand. “There’s not much in ways to spend the time here,” she says. “But it’s been a long time since I had someone to dance with.”

 

Amélie stands. The eclectic furniture shimmies around them, moving towards the edges of the room to create an impromptu dance floor. “I am actually a dancer,” Amélie says slowly. “Professionally.”

 

Sombra grins. “I knew that,” she says. “You moved like a dancer out there, even though you were scared.”

 

“Oh?” Amélie takes a step towards her. “Is that why you brought me here, then? Why you didn’t ‘take me away?’”

 

Sombra takes a step towards her, until they’re almost touching. She lightly puts a hand on Amélie’s wrist. “I haven’t danced in quite a while,” she says. “And anyway. Are you complaining?”

 

Amélie takes her hand in earnest, and pulls her into a starting stance. Sombra’s grin widens, and she follows her lead.

 

-

 

Amélie thinks Sombra could dance the entire night, but she’s been skiing all day, and tires after an hour or so. Sombra lets go of her with a pout and the music shuts off. “I’ll show you to the bedroom,” she says, and Amélie suppresses a laugh at how the fairy’s light gait has become a bit of a drag. 

 

When she passes through the threshold of the bedroom, though, she’s thrown off again. “There’s just one bed,” Amélie says.

 

“Well, yes. I don’t have guests very often, you know.” Sombra goes to one of the plastic bins on the edge of the room and rummages through it. She tosses out evening gowns and cardigans, all seemingly thrown together, before pulling out a flannel pajama set, still attached and the tags still on. She holds it out to Amélie. Amélie stares at it.

 

“Do you sleep?” she asks, because Sombra doesn’t seem to have much sense of what furniture should be used for, maybe the bed is purely decorative. But Sombra snorts and nods. 

 

“I do. And I sleep here.” Amélie’s lips tighten and Sombra taps a finger to her chin. “Of course, if you’re still afraid of me, I could sleep on the sofa...”

 

Amélie yanks the pajamas out of Sombra’s arms. Sombra laughs, then abruptly stops as Amélie pulls off her shirt.

 

“I can leave while you change,” she says quickly when Amélie glances over at her. Amélie smiles.

 

“Well, if you’re still afraid of me…”

 

Sombra scowls petulantly and plants herself firmly on the edge of the bed. Amélie carefully keeps from laughing and finishes changing, then gets under the covers. The bed bounces slightly as Sombra crawls in on the other side. Sombra snaps her fingers and the lights go out, but Amélie can see the sharp lines of her face in the moonlight and the dim blue glow Sombra exudes. Distantly, she thinks it’s strange the moon is so bright. The sky had been covered in storm clouds earlier.

 

“Do you think you’ll want to dance in the morning?” Sombra asks.

 

“I don’t know,” Amélie says. Really, she doesn’t think she will. She’s already quite thirsty and sore, and very tired. But she doesn’t want to close that door yet, for a number of reasons. So she says, “We’ll see.” That seems to satisfy Sombra, and she closes her eyes. There’s space between them but Amélie realizes she can feel the chill radiating from Sombra’s body, and something like a static shock crackling through the sheets. It's enervating in a way Amélie is utterly happy with. She rolls on her side, back to Sombra, and closes her eyes.

 

-

 

Amélie wakes in the middle of the night. She tries to ignore it and fall back asleep. But she can’t help it. She’s parched. And when the idea occurs to her, she can’t quite shake it. She slowly, carefully climbs out of bed, then quickly looks back at Sombra. Still fast asleep, her breathing slow and soft. Amélie opens the bedroom door the smallest amount and tiptoes through the living room.

 

She can’t drink anything Sombra has here, she thinks. But there’s snow outside. That’s water. She can drink that.

 

She opens the front door slowly at first, then pulls it open wide as she stares out over the landscape. There is no snow outside. The earth outside is dark purple sand, shifting ever so slightly. There is a forest of gnarled black trees with silver leaves in the distance, and the sounds of music and laughter echo from them. The moon is impossibly large in the sky, and would surely be as bright as the sun were it not for the swathes of multi-colored mist that float in front of it.

 

Amélie slams the door shut, then quickly looks back to the bedroom. There’s no noise. She walks to the sofa and sits down and buries her head in her hands.

 

Sombra had never told her she would bring her back, she thinks. She had told her she could stay the night, she never said how long that night would last.

 

Amélie raises her head. The goblet of wine is still on the table, still steaming and fragrant. Amélie is still so, so thirsty. And she doesn’t see a point in holding out any longer. She wraps her hand around the stem.

 

“What are you doing, pretty girl?”

 

Amélie jolts and twists around to look behind her. Sombra is leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom. “I know where we are,” Amélie says. “So what’s the use?”

 

Sombra says nothing and pushes off the door frame, and takes couple steps towards her. For the first time, her expression is a stony neutral. “Pretty girl,” she says. “Why did you go out into that storm?”

 

Amélie turns her back to Sombra. “I like skiing,” she says to her lap.

 

“That’s fine,” Sombra says. Her lilting voice is growing closer. “But most people prefer to ski when they know they won’t freeze to death in a blizzard. What makes you different?”

 

Sombra is in front of her now. Amélie can see the glow in the periphery of her vision. She raises her head to meet Sombra’s eyes. “I thought it would be interesting,” she says.

 

“Interesting,” Sombra repeats.

 

“Yes,” Amélie says. “Because I’ve found that’s where the best parts of life are. When something happens that’s terrifying and exhilarating and new, and you know you’re alive.” 

 

Sombra stares at her for a minute, her navy eyes cast in shadow in the bright moonlight. Then she says, “Stand up.” Amélie does. Sombra takes her hand loosely once more, when Amélie meets her eyes, Sombra kisses her. Her lips are cold and at first that’s all Amélie notices, but then she finds the chill spreading down her throat, into her gut. Like ice, she thinks. She pulls back and the chill dissipates and leaves water in its wake. Amélie gasps. Her thirst is gone.

 

“What was that?” she asks.

 

“A gift,” Sombra says.

 

Amélie doesn’t know much about fairies, but she knows not to trust their gifts. “I didn’t ask for this,” she says. She almost adds that she didn’t accept it, but no, she very much did.

 

In any case, Sombra does not seem concerned. She just steps back and appraises Amélie. “It’s fine,” she says. “You don’t need to worry. You can pay me back in kind.”

 

“I can’t,” Amélie says. “I can’t do magic.”

 

Sombra grins at that, and her icy-white teeth glint in the moonlight. “Oh, I think you can,” she says. But when Amélie’s eyes widen as she grasps her meaning, her smile falters. “But ah, if you don’t want to, we can find another arrangement–“

 

She quiets when Amélie kisses her. Her lips are still cold, her tongue is colder still, but Amélie lets herself fall into the kiss. Sombra takes her hand and pulls her back towards the bedroom, and Amélie follows obediently. She’s reminded of the stories of the Pied Piper, of fairies who sang and danced away and humans who followed them blindly to their doom, and she suddenly believes them all.

 

Sombra pushes her gently so the she’s seated on the bed, then climbs into her lap. Amélie’s eyes flick to her bodice. It seems almost melded to her glowing skin, and she’s not sure how to remove it. Amélie puts a hand on her waist and looks up at her questioningly. Sombra smiles. 

 

“Are you nervous? Don’t be,” she says, before Amélie has a chance to respond. “I don’t count as fairy food.”

 

The joke’s so bad the spell almost breaks for Amélie. But then Sombra laughs her musical laugh and sheds her bodice, and Amélie is completely entranced again.

 

-

 

When Amélie wakes up, Sombra is sitting up in bed next to her, reading a cheap paperback. “The Vampire’s Revenge,” Amélie can make out on its spine. She sets it down as Amélie rises, rubbing her eyes.

 

“It’s morning,” Sombra tells her. “And you’re welcome to stay longer, but I thought you’d like to get home.”

 

“I really should,” Amélie says, and Sombra must sense the surprising reluctance she feels at that, because she smiles. She points to Amélie’s snow clothes, folded and set atop one of the boxes along the wall. Amélie gets up slowly and starts to dress. As she’s zipping up her coat, though, she remembers, and turns around quickly.

 

“I never paid you,” she says. Sombra tilts her head.

 

“No,” she says. “You didn’t. But you know, pretty girl, I usually let the people I deal with name their price. I don’t see any reason to not let you do the same.”

 

“But you kill those people,” Amélie says. “Or steal them. Or something.”

 

Sombra smiles a weary smile. “I’m not going to kill you, or steal you.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I don’t want to kill you,” Sombra says. “I want you to come back. And if I steal you away, you’ll hate me, and you’ll escape eventually, or you’ll die in the Wilds. Either way, you’ll never return. If I let you go, you’ll come back to me because you want to. And that’s what I want.”

 

“You don’t know I’ll want to come back,” Amélie points out. 

 

Sombra’s sharp canines are visible through her smile once again. “We’ll see, I suppose,” she says, then rests her chin on her hand. “So then. What do you want to give me, as a payment?”

 

Amélie peers through the bedroom door, at the extravagantly decorated larger room, and snorts. “What else could you possibly need?”

 

“Oh, I don’t need furniture,” Sombra says. “And I don’t need knick-knacks. But I do need something.”

 

She’s watching Amélie closely. She’s still glowing, Amélie notes, and she’s close enough that Amélie can taste the chill radiating from her.

 

“My name is Amélie,” she tells her. “Amélie Lacroix.”

 

Sombra smiles and leans in and kisses her. “Amélie Lacroix,” she says, when she pulls back. “See you soon.” Amélie ducks her head down and smiles and gives a little wave, and then she walks out the door. The too-big moon and the purple sand are gone. She walks back out to the forest she got lost in. It’s partially hidden behind a cloud, but the sun is out. It’s rising in the east. It must be morning. Amélie turns around, to wave goodbye to Sombra one more time, but when she does all she sees is snow and trees. The cabin is gone.

 

-

 

The lodge attendant looks stunned when she walks through the doors. “You came back,” he says hoarsely. “How?”

 

Amélie shrugs. “Waited until morning, I suppose.” The attendant considers her, and then he nods. 

 

“Still, you should rest,” he says. “You look a little blue.” Amélie doesn’t know what he’s talking about, so she ignores him. But then she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar. There is a blue pall to her skin now, just on the edge of perceptibly fading, and more cyan than could truly be considered natural. She touches a hand to her cheek and laughs.

 

Her skin is back to normal by the time she returns to the forest. This time, there is no storm. The setting sun is shining, reflecting red off the the snow, illuminating every pine needle. It’s warmer now and the snow is melting off branches, creating an artificial rain. But despite the warmth, there is the path of ice, and despite the sun, there is a shadow, glowing blue and smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @tacticalgrandma on tumblr/twitter if you want to talk to me there!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and any comments/kudos would mean the world to me <3


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